Pineapple Yogurt
by IveHeardItBothWays1088
Summary: With Fi in prison, Michael gets one shot at catching Anson Fullerton; using a goofball psychic and his best friend as bait to lure Anson out in to the open. If only the two idiots would stay put and do as they were told. But with Shawn and Gus along for the ride Michael might finally uncover the truth and how deep the conspiracy against him really goes...
1. Chapter 1

"This isn't really a great time Sam. Doing favors for Card and working for Pierce so I can get Fiona out of jail is kind of taking up all of my time" said Michael in an annoyed tone as he walked with Sam over from the parking lot to the Carlito.

"Hey Mike, just hear him out, ok? He's a buddy of mine from back in the day. And this case he's talking about sounds like big potatoes. Something about a case against some hot shot mob boss out in California. It may just put another feather on the Michael Westen cap, give you some extra mojo when we try to fannagle Fi out of prison? Worst case scenario, we can point my buddy in the right direction. Now that's not too bad, is it?" said Sam, already swigging from a beer bottle even thought they hadn't even walked in to the Carlito yet.

Michael sighed. He was never one to just turn people away who needed help, but even for him there was only so much tap-dancing he could do at one time. This whole thing with Fiona had him on edge. Even after making sure she was safe in prison, there weren't many nights anymore when he slept well. He'd spend all his late waking hours trying to figure out how to best get Fi out of prison. Michael had drawn depressingly few viable options. Short of finding Anson Fullerton and getting him to confess to the whole embassy bombing thing there was very little he could realistically come up with to get Fiona out of prison... in a legal way. If Michael was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he would be able to get Fi out of this without both of them becoming fugitives for life.

"Sam, I don't know. Maybe I can hear him out. Point him in the right direction. Right now is just really not a good time for me to be taking new clients." Especially when he knew he'd find himself wishing Fi could be doing the job with him at least once every other minute.

"Well, I hope that 'maybe' is actually a 'yes', because my buddy is actually waiting for us inside."

Michael threw his head back with an exasperated sigh "Sam! I just wanted to come to the Carlito and talk about our next move with this Fi thing. I wasn't planning on meeting any clients or signing up for any jobs."

"Eeeeasy there Mikey. Look sorry to spring this on you, but I owe the guy and I'm just asking you to sit down with him and have a couple of beers. Hey, I'll even pay for lunch. How's that?"

Michael let out another semi dramatic sigh and relented, knowing at this point he wasn't going to win the argument. "Fine Sam, I'll hear him out. But I'm not taking the job. I'll just point him in the right direction, ok?"

"Hey, all right Mike. You're the boss" said Sam while raising his beer in thanks and giving one of his trademark Sam Axe grins.

"Let's just get this over with."

They walked in to the Carlito, and it didn't take long for Mike to ID the man that was probably Sam's friend with the problem he needed help with. Tall man, in his middle years and rail thin. By the look of his suit and the hostile glances he was giving most of the other customers Michael guessed he was probably not a regular to the Miami crowd. Everything about the man screamed "cop", from his cheap suit to the permanent suspicious scowl on his face to the lump beneath the jacket that Mike was pretty sure was a shoulder holster of the police issued kind. Since the suit was light brown and not black, probably not a fed.

No hard case Fed would ever be caught wearing anything but Washington black, after all.

The man stood when he spotted Sam as the two of them approached the table. He was tall, probably close to six and half feet.

"Hey, Carlton, how you been?" Said Sam enthusiastically as the two men shook hands. The cop smiled, though it looked to Michael like that wasn't something he got a lot of practice doing. It almost looked like it hurt his face.

"Sam, good to see you" replied the man Michael now knew as Carlton.

"Yeah, so let me introduce you, Carlton, this is Michael Westen my buddy that I told you about. Michael this is..."

"Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, Santa Barbara Police Department. How do you do." The man reached over and he and Michael shook hands. Michael noticed that there was no smile for him. Maybe there was something to his painful smiling idea after all.

"Great, nice to meet you" said Micheal with a smile and voice that felt a little forced. He really wasn't in the mood for this right now. The detective didn't pick up on it, but Sam gave him a sideways glance as they sat down.

"So," said Sam, getting right down to business, "what can we help you with Carlton?" He waved and asked the waitress for a mojito and a round of beers.

"Well," began Carlton "before I get started I just want to say that I am extremely uncomfortable involving a couple of civilians in this kind of sensitive situation. You haven't been in the line of duty in years. Who knows how badly your skills have degraded to the point of utter uselessness? Worst case scenario you might just muck everything up and get a whole bunch of people killed since you are just a couple of wash-outs. No offence Sam." He sounded like he thought he was being extra polite and diplomatic by adding that last bit on at the end.

Lassiter's little speech made Michael a little annoyed, but on the whole he found it kind of funny. He put a plastered smile on his face for the man.

"He's always been this charming Michael, don't take it personally. He's really a stand up guy, if somewhat lacking in the people skills department" said Sam as he finished off his beer.

"Trust me Carlton, we've kept plenty busy since we retired from government work" said Michael, leaving out the whole complicated mess about how he was for the most part back with the CIA, "now tell us, what seems to be the problem?"

Lassiter hesitated, then reluctantly began, "I'm here unofficially from the S.B.P.D. Though this whole idea of coming to you for help goes against every cop bone in my body, the fact is I trust Sam and the truth is things have gotten somewhat desperate. We don't know who to trust. We... need some help."

Carlton said it like he expected that revelation to be a big shocker. When he saw the two men across from him giving him steely gazes and taking it all in stride, the Head Detective felt both more reassured and uncomfortable at the same time.

"About a year ago" Lassiter began "the S.B.P.D started putting a case together against Martin de la Vega. You know who he is?"

"Yeah," said Sam, perking up "yeah, kind of a hot shot shadowy mobster out in California. Rumored to have his fingers in all sorts of criminal pies all throughout the state. I heard the Feds had a real hard-on for him for a while. But they never could make anything stick."

"Yeah that's about right," said Lassiter, "but the scope of that cockroach's influence is a bit bigger than that. In the past five years he's gotten more and more power throughout the state. He's been hitting his competitors, their distribution centers, top lieutenants, that type of thing. It was pretty clear when we started the investigation that he had made it so big he was getting a cut from pretty much all organized criminal activity in the state of California. Anyone who wasn't paying him off could expect to be hosed down with lead shortly. Vega was the undisputed kingpin of all California crime" Lassiter stopped to catch his breath and take a swig from the cold beer that had just arrived. "Damn, that's good. How do you people survive in this damn heat anyway?"

"Wait, _was_ the undisputed kingpin in California?" asked Sam.

Carlton looked a little smug, "Vega was known to have crooked cops in his pocket in pretty much every major department in whole state. After an internal audit by the governor's office, it was decided that the S.B.P.D. was the one major department that probably didn't have any rats. Or it had fewer than anywhere else at any case. So I, as head detective, got to take the lead in a hush hush state wide investigation in to the criminal activities of one Martiiin de la Vega" Carlton was raising his eyebrows at the two other men and grinning, as if to say 'tell me you're not impressed'.

"By how happy you seem about the whole thing, I guess the investigation was a success" said Michael, finally starting to get a little interested in Lassiter's story.

"You bet your ass it was! Thanks to me, my partner and..." Lassiter's lip quivered with distaste, "a couple of consultants, we managed to put a case together that was a slam dunk to put Vega away for the rest of his pathetic, filthy, worthless criminal life."

"So what's the problem?" asked Sam.

"The problem is that we couldn't well hide the fact there was an investigation after we arrested him. After that, the sleazebag started using all his money, influence and dirty cops in his pocket to fight back. The original judge that was slated to take care of the case had a reputation for being incorruptible. He reported someone had tried to bribe him and he refused. A week later he 'slipped on the stairs' at his house and broke his neck."

"Jesus," said Sam, "placing hits on a judge? That's just stupid. This guy must really be desperate."

"Not when the coroner was some stooge from Sacramento who ruled the death an accident. That's where the trial is going to be held. Then when the DA requested a second opinion, paperwork 'accidentally' got mixed up and the body was cremated in the middle of the night before anyone else could take a look at it."

Michael was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"A week after that," continued Lassiter, "one of our _own officers_ in Santa Barbara went down to the evidence room with a soda can full of gas and torched a bunch of the physical evidence we had collected against Vega. It was dumb luck that officer MacNab wandered in when he did and stopped her from torching the whole evidence room down. Who would have guessed even our department was full of scum. She wont utter a word, and her lawyer fees are now being paid for by an anonymous and mysterious third party. How lucky for her is that?" he said with venom dripping from his voice.

Michael whispered to Sam "sounds like this guy Vega is well connected and not afraid to take risks to make this go away. Not someone who'd you want to take head on."

"Yeah, no kidding" said Sam, starting in on his mojito.

"Anyway, the long and short of it is this; after those incidents new precautions were taken and things seemed to calm down. Then out of nowhere some of the phone taps we have on his people picked up some chatter about some new guy el jefe hired to get him out of this mess. Whoever this joker is he seems to have dirt on just about every public official in the whole state. Some of the people pushing to nail this scumbag all of a sudden start to dig their heels in and try to get the whole thing derailed. For a while there it even looked like they would succeed" Lassiter was grinding his teeth the whole time he was saying this. That the man was upset would be like saying the center of the sun was warm.

"So where do we come in?" asked Michael.

"A lot of evidence was lost, but there is still enough to make a case. However for it to still be a sure slam dunk so we can get this degenerate off the streets we need the testimony of one of the investigators who worked the case with me. He was often in a unique position to observe the crimes in progress... he usually got there before anyone else along with his partner. According to the DA his testimony could be the most crucial and credible in this case."

"More so than yours Carlton?" asked Sam curiously.

"I've been known to... discharge my firearm... more than often than the 'state average', like that is a good measure to go by. So what if I enjoy discharging my firearm on a weekly to bi-weekly basis? Suspects don't respond to rainbows and lollipops last time I checked."

"Right," said Sam, "so you're the rouge cop, your partner probably gets painted with the same brush as you, so the only one the DA thinks will not have their credibility torn down in court is this private investigator. That about right?"

"Something like that" said Carlton. Michael could see him opening and closing his right hand. It gave him the distinct impression the man liked to go for his gun when he was upset.

"So let me guess," said Michael, "you need to keep this private investigator alive long enough to testify in court, but since really high profile people in the state government have been influenced by Vega and his new mystery information broker you can't be sure of his safety."

"That's right, Westen. So far two assistant DA's and a deputy police commissioner have been fired and if we're lucky will be charged soon for trying to sabotage this case. It makes it hard to know how to protect him. Him and his partner, though it's mostly his testomny that matters most. The governor doesn't want to get the Feds involved, so the S.B.P.D. needs to come up with some creative ways of keeping one of our own alive for the next four months. A lot can go wrong in that time."

"So what is this private investigator's name?" asked Sam.

Lassiter hesitated for a moment before answering. "Shawn Spencer" he said.

It looked like neither of them recognized the name. Carlton counted that as a small blessing.

"So, mind if a ask you a few things about the case?" asked Michael.

"If it's pertinent to keeping Spencer alive, I guess that's all right."

"Yeah, I understand. So, how exactly was it that this Shawn Spencer was always the first one at the scene before even the cops? Shouldn't he have had backup?"

"Well... he would figure out on his own where one of Vega's operations was. Then he and his partner Burton Guster would go there... alone... unsupervised... and try to steal all my thunder!" he slammed his beer bottle on the table as he said this, spilling some of the precious liquid.

"And get himself killed. Mikey, this Spencer guy sounds like he has a real deathwish. Could be hard keeping him safe. And how did HE figure out where the crimes were every time before the cops did?" asked Sam.

"It's his 'gift'. He tells everyone he's a psychic, though I'm on to him and know that he's full of crap."

Michael and Sam both sniggered. "So he's what?" asked Sam, "a Psychic Detective?" asked Sam with laughter creeping in to his voice.

This made Lassiter very cross. "Yes, dammit, he's a psychic detective all right? Look we're not stupid. His psychic nonsense may be a bunch of stupid mumbo-jumbo, but we keep him around because he's helped close nearly a hundred investigations, most of them homicides. And oh my God, did I just defend Shawn Spencer?" he asked himself in a moment of horror.

"And the DA thinks the jury will take this guy seriously?" asked Sam, still not completely over his snickering fit.

"He thinks the record will speak for itself. I hate to admit it, but he's got over a 99% track record in cracking cases. And he can be damn persuasive when he speaks straight and stops acting like a retarded third grader." There he was, defending Spencer again.

"Allright allright fine. We don't mean any harm Carlton, it was just a funny story. Hey, so any idea who this joker is giving your bad guy all this new dirt on California officials?

The CIA operative barely heard what Sam asked. Michael was glad to have a little laugh at the thought of a psychic detective, but thinking about laughing somehow morbidly made him think of how Fi probably wouldn't be doing much laughing as long as she was in prison, and how he couldn't share this light moment with her. He might never get to share lighthearted moments like this one with her ever again.

There was no way he was going to babysit some detective and his partner for four months. He was already thinking of maybe an out of state or international security firm to recommend. Even if Vega had ears on the ground internationally, setting up a cover ID for Spencer and Guster and shipping them off to England, then taking a boat under a different fake name to Australia or South Africa where they would be protected by a private security firm would throw off even most determined intelligence agencies. If only a couple of people knew in Santa Barbara the risk would be minimal. Even if one of them talked, the bad guys still had to go through a lot of manpower and a lot of international borders to get the two detectives. For the return trip, there were other security measures they could take. He thought the S.B.P.D. would be just fine on their own.

"We don't know Sam, the name came up only once because one of Vega's Lieutenants got sloppy. He wasn't supposed to even know the guy's name I think and it's just our luck he said it over a tapped line. Apparently in exchange for his information and help in making this case go away Vega is giving protection to this new piece of criminal refuse. They called him Mr. Fullerton, but it might be an alias since it didn't turn up on any of our criminal databases."

Sam and Michael froze. They were both extremely well trained, but they had let their guard down and had not been expecting to hear something so shocking.

"Wait, that's all they said? A Mr. Fullerton?" asked Sam.

Carlton was a detective, and a damn good one at that. He realized the name meant something important to these two. "OK, so spill it guys. Who is this lowlife? How do you know of him?"

Sam gave Michael a sideways glance. Michael returned it. There was an understanding between them after having worked together for so long. Even though they didn't like it, they would lie to Lassiter about it.

"When we were both on the inside and had access to classified data," began Michael "Fullerton was an alias of a well known international information broker. His specialty was getting dirt on just about anyone and selling that information. His MO was not to be the blackmailer, but to sell the blackmail material. Still, no one is sure what he looks like and he's never been caught. Don't go telling everyone though. Most things about Mr Fullerton are still classified."

A little light appeared in Carlton's eyes at the mention of the word 'classified' and Michael found it just a tad disturbing. "Classified, hugh? You mean like INTERPOL, international criminal rings?"

What the hell, thought Michael. Might as well play it up a little bit. "This is way above INTERPOL. More like eyes only top secret CIA information on a need-to-know basis. I've probably already said too much. We need you to keep your mouth shut on this one Lassiter. It's better for all of us."

"Oh don't you worry. I can keep a secret. And that information doesn't really help the case, so we'll just keep it between us, hey boys?" Carlton gave them a slow and deliberate wink. Sam and Michael shared a look that said 'oh brother'.

Sam started "So listen Carlton, there are some private security firms that..."

"I think what Sam is trying to say," said Michael cutting off Sam, "is that even private security firms can be compromised by this guy Fullerton. He's a master manipulator and can get dirt on just about anyone. You need to put these guys with someone you can trust. And you need to get them out of California, right now."

Carlton looked a little uncertain. "You sure? I mean all our resources are in California. There aren't really any people that I trust – that _we _trust – out of the state. Not with this. I wouldn't know where to begin."

Michael smiled a big Westen smile, and Sam was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable. "You trust Sam don't you? You should bring them here to Miami. We have guy in a security firm who is one hundred percent trustworthy. Between Sam, myself and him we can keep them protected and below the radar until you are ready for your trial back home."

Carlton looked suspicious "And you'd do this, what, out of the goodness of your heart?"

"No, I was thinking more in the neighborhood of $150,000 for the three of us for four months. Plus a budget for expenses. But two of us are ex counter-intelligence and Sam here as you know is an ex navy seal. Fact is, Vega's whole network is in California. That's his kingdom, his fortress. You get them far away from California, his influence is substantially diminished. We can stash them and keep an eye on them. Anyone new starts making waves in Miami, we'll have our ear to the ground and have a good chance to see them coming. If not we could hold off an armored assault with a little preparation and get your people to safety. You need us Carlton. You have to trust somebody to keep your boys safe, and you're not going to find anyone better off the grid than us."

For a minute there Michael looked at Carlton with his most persuasive face on and though that maybe he had sold it too hard. Been too eager, which he had felt. But in the end it seemed that Lassiter was won over by his arguments.

"All right Westen. Sam vouched for you, and he's one of the few people I know that what he says is good enough to take to the bank. What do you think Sam? Is this the best plan?"

Sam took a long pull from his mojito to hide the face he was making at having to lie to his buddy for Mike. "Yeah Carlton. I think it's the best option you've got."

Carlton nodded and stood up. "I'll make the arrangements then. I'll just have to figure out how to get them to Miami fast without having to worry about their names going through all that airline ticket nonsense."

Michael smiled. "Don't worry Lassiter. We can arrange a flight for you with no names or questions asked. They'll get here safely." He was going to have to ask Pierce for a _big_ favor.

The Head Detective looked suitably impressed. "All right then. It's been a pleasure. Sam. Michael." And then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jesus Mike, you want to use these two guys as bait to try to draw Fullerton out in to the open, don't you?" asked an incredulous Sam after Lassiter had left.

"Fullerton must be low on funds Sam, the CIA managed to find and freeze most of the hundred million dollars he got before. He's selling the only thing he has left now; the information his organization gathered about potential assets and high value targets all around the world. If he can't deliver as promised to Vega with his information there is a good chance the mobster will kill him, and Anson knows that. We can force him to show himself to finish the job or risk being killed by his new protector."

"Mikey, you're making a hell of a lot of a assumptions there. I mean we can't be sure this is really Anson Fullerton. Why would that rat stay in the States? It would just make it that much easier for the feds and CIA to track him."

"There must be something he needs here in the states Sam. I'm not sure what but there has to be a reason."

Sam shook his head. He knew his friend was going to be unreasonably stubborn, but he still felt like he should do his due diligence and try to get him to think things through. "Come on Mike, this is a long shot at best. How do we even know this is really Anson? We don't. Could be a decoy, the CIA could spend a lot of resources tracking this down while Anson is getting further dug in in some third world bolt hole. Even if it is Anson we'd be better off chasing him through the CIA and trying to find where he's hiding in California, not hoping he'll expose himself by trying to sour him to a mob boss. Seems a lot more complicated than it need to be Mikey."

"I know it might not be him Sam!" Said Mike angrily, "but it's the best lead we've got. If I'm going to get Fi out of prison, we need to catch Anson and prove he is responsible for the embassy bombing. Now I can't risk calling the CIA in on this. Anson is too good. If the CIA starts sniffing around on American soil, there is going to be a lot of jurisdictional nonsense with the FBI. There is a good chance the FBI will want to inform California law enforcement because of this huge mobster trial. There are just too many chances for Anson to get wind that we know where he is and if that happens, he's gone. We'll never find him again. Sam, I can't take that chance" said Michael, a hoarse desperation in his voice as he said the last part.

Sam hesitated before answering. He'd have his buddies back on this, but that didn't mean he had to like it. And there was something else that was bugging him. "Even if I agree that it might be the right play to keep this intel to ourselves, we're talking about hanging two of the good guys to swing out in the wind as bait without their knowledge or consent. If we let these guys get killed and this case against Vega comes crashing down, I don't think I'll ever be able to look at myself in the mirror anymore. Even in a tiny mirror like the ones they have in federal prisons cells Mikey. Because if this goes sideways, we could well end up doing some hard federal time ourselves brother."

Sam was right, Michael thought. If Pierce or the CIA found out he'd been hiding this lead on Anson, boy would that be hard to explain. It could well get him kicked out again and land him in jail. If he got these witnesses killed in the process it would definitely be jail for the rest of his life. But still, he had to take the chance. He hated that he would be putting Sam and probably Jessie too in this mess. He'd try to shield them and take the blame as much as he could if it came to that. Still, it was a risk worth taking. For Fi.

"I know Sam. I know. We can do this. We can do this with minimal risk. I promise you we'll take every precaution to keep Spencer and his partner safe. This isn't just for Fi. Anson's hurt a lot of people over the years, ruined a lot of lives. The lives of good soldiers, good Americans just trying to serve their country. We need to get to him, and we need to take him down for good."

Sam looked at Michael somewhat skeptically. Before this mess with Fiona, he would have believed that speech from Michael without the slightest hesitation. About keeping the two detectives alive at all costs, about how this was also about the big picture for him. But now, now Mike was somewhat unstable when compared to his usual self in the Ex-SEAL's opinion. The guy had blinders on when it came to this Fi thing, and Sam wasn't entirely sure he'd let this go if it meant keeping the two detectives alive. Sam was afraid Mike would push the envelope way past the point where they should bail if it came to that, because he just didn't have a cool head on his shoulders when it came to Fi. He was so desperate to get her out of jail, he might make some stupid calls and get some good people killed.

Still, maybe he wasn't giving his best friend enough credit. But just in case, Sam would be there watching every step of the way. No way he was going to let anything bad happen to those two boys, Anson or no Anson.

The ex Seal took a long swig from his mojito and finished it off. "So," he asked, "did you have to ask for $150k between the three of us Mike? I think we could have gotten a lot more from the boys down at the S.B.P.D." he said with a cocky smile.

++++PineappleYogurt++++

Henry Spencer was a man who thought he had more good qualities than bad. He was a disciplined, no nonsense guy who was damn good at his job, not to mention something of a world class fisherman in his view. One of his faults though that he could at least privately admit to himself is that sometimes he had some trouble controlling his anger. Especially when it came to some dumb ass idea that was going to get his son killed.

"Let me get this straight," Henry ground out, his struggle to keep from shouting evident to everyone in the room, "you want to send my son out to Miami to hang out with some buddy of Lassiter's who he hadn't even spoken to in ten years. We're supposed to just ship them off to Florida to this Sam Axe character and two of his buddies – neither of them which we've ever met by the way or know a damn thing about – and just **trust** these strangers to keep Shawn and Gus safe from an army of Mob goons and every sort of criminal scum in the whole country? Karen, you know that I respect you, but are you out of your damn mind?"

Chief of SBPD took a deep calming breath, beginning to get irritated with the veteran police officer. "If you take the time to think this through it's not as crazy as you're making it sound. You're missing the big picture here Henry."

"Big picture? Oh you think **I'm** missing the big picture?" said Henry. He threw down a file he had brought in to chief Vick's office on her desk. He opened the file, found the page he was looking for, and then turned the whole thing to face the chief sitting behind her desk. "Did you read this report I filed last week? Well, it's right here in case you didn't Karen. I shook down two different snitches, and both of them said the same thing. Word on the street is that Vega's put out a contract on Shawn. One million dollars for him dead. Three million dollars for him alive. Word on the street is since it was Shawn who found so many of his operations and got them busted, now he wants some payback. That sick bastard is **NOT** getting his hands on my son Karen. Same goes for Gus. Vega's also offering a third of that amount for him."

The chief sighed. Now she knew why Henry was so worked up. "Yes, I read your report Henry. And by the way, you are not authorized to be going out on the field…"

"They had pictures of them," Henry interrupted her "Vega's thugs are handing out pictures of Shawn and Gus like candy to every scumbag and small time crook in Santa Barbara, with their names and the reward money helpfully printed on the back just in case anyone forgot how much their heads were worth. They need a safe house and around the clock police protection. Not some perfect strangers with few resources who for all we know will abandon them at the drop of a hat! Hell, for all we know these guys might just sell out Shawn and Gus for the whole four million if they found out about it. Ever think of that, chief?"

"Henry, that's _exactly_ why I decided to agree to this course of action. With every crook in California by now looking to find Shawn and Guster, we need to get them out of the state. Trust me I would love to keep them nearby where we could control the situation. But unfortunately I don't think that's an option anymore. If this case has shown us anything is that that rat Vega can get to just about anyone here in California. Those two need to disappear. The less official and the fewer people involved the better. Police protection creates too many possibilities for someone to find their location. You'd know that if you thought it through Henry."

Henry felt his jaw muscles tighten involuntarily, but he had to concede the point that Police protection would probably not work, even if that was his first instinct. Vega was just too well connected, had way too much muscle at his disposal. Even if they had ten cops watching the two around the clock, Vega could conceivably still attack the place with twenty or more of his goons. If they found out where Shawn and Gus were hiding it would be inviting a bloodbath.

Still. This didn't sit right with Henry. There was no way he would just leave his son's safety to a bunch of strangers. Especially strangers who worked for money. He knew the type. People with skills –if you took their word for it- but no principles. They didn't use their talents for what they thought was right. They tried to exploit it for the biggest paycheck possible. For some computer geek or a graphic designer? That was fine. For someone who ran around with a gun and at times had to shoot people? As far as Henry was concerned these people were just a stone throw away from being hit men or some crime lord's highly trained goons. Trusting Shawn and Gus to those people when there were four million dollars on their heads was a colossal mistake.

"What about the trustworthiness of these people, Karen? You know as well as I do what things people will do when this much money is on the line."

"Henry, we have to trust someone. Lassiter vouched for these people up and down. And as I'm sure you know, Lassiter is both the least trusting person on the force and probably has more invested interest in making sure Shawn and Gus make it to the witness stand in one piece. It's a judgment call. The call has been made. End of discussion."

Henry ground his teeth so hard that he thought some of his molars might break. Without a word he turned on his heel and stormed out of Karen's office.

No way. There was no way he was going to let Shawn swing in the wind at the mercy of these people. He might lose his job over this, but he didn't care. Work was more to do something productive and keep in touch with the department he spent his career working in. This whole situation with Shawn was life or death, and dramatically more important. His decision was made.

Henry was booking a flight to Miami.

++++PineappleYogurt++++

Juliet O'Hara could admit it to herself, even if she had never said it out loud. She loved Shawn Spencer. He was her best friend, and the only one who could make her feel giddy and bubbly inside like a little schoolgirl. But sometimes she just wanted to smack him. Smack him really really hard. In the face. Over and over again.

"What the _hell_ are you two wearing?" she demanded.

Gus was wearing a horrible bright yellow polo shirt with large palm trees and dancing Hawaiian hula girls on the front. He had on brightly colored sandals, kaki shorts and round sunglasses, plus a large necklace made of flowers around his neck to complete the outfit.

If possible, Shawn was dressed even worse.

He was wearing a bright pink Hawaiian shirt with palm trees and pineapples in white all over the shirt. For shorts he had a pair of horrible orange-and-black swimming trunks and a pair of Birkenstocks with white socks. A pair of cheap aviator sunglasses and _three _garlands of flowers around his neck completed the outfit.

"What does it look like Jewels?" said Shawn, "me and Gus are getting the right wardrobe on for our trip to Miami."

"Yeah, we want to make sure to fit in with the… local flavor." Said Gus with a cocky confident smile.

Juliet stared at them speechless for a few moments before finding her voice again. "Did you guys forget, you can't get noticed by _anybody_! This is like being under cover! How are you going to blend in to Miami looking like a couple of cruise line commercial rejects? You guys are going to get noticed in point five seconds! And you look like a couple of idiots."

Shawn looked a bit confused, looking back between himself and Gus. Gus for his part seemed offended.

"Juliet, I'll have you know what I'm wearing is from the Tony Bahama Caribbean Dreams collection. There's nothing more authentic than that for blending into a Caribbean paradise like Miami." Gus argued.

"Really? Really Gus? You have hula girls on your shirt. Hula girls are from Hawaii, which is on an _entirely_ different ocean. How does that have anything to do with the Caribbean?"

Gus shrunk back and looked disturbed by this revelation. Shawn put his hand up to try to talk sense to his girlfriend.

"Jewels, don't Captain Pollution to our Captain Planet here. We've seen the Love Boat, Shawshank Redemption _and_ Pirates of the Caribbean. We know how the game is played in the land sunny beaches and fruity drinks with little umbrellas on them." Assured Shawn.

Juliet thought her brain was going to melt. "_What_? **What** Shawn? No one in ANY of those dressed like you two are dressed. Any what does the Shawshank Redemption have to do with any of this? That has nothing to do with beaches or Miami or any of it!"

"Actually, the Shawshank Redemption was filmed in the US Virgin islands. So it potentially could be used as a reference guide" Chimed in Gus helpfully.

Juliet wanted to scream. They didn't get it. They just didn't get it. There were mob hits out on them. With that kind of money out looking for them, they needed to be invisible. Blend in. Now was so not the time for them to be pulling this kind of thing as a stupid joke, or prank.

A frightening thought came over Juliet. What if this wasn't a prank, all of it wasn't a prank, and this is how they really functioned? Oh. My. God.

"Shawn," Juliet began, pointing her finger at him in her angry face "if you ever, ever want to sleep with me again, _ever, _you will change out of those ridiculous clothes and into something normal **right now!** Do you understand me?"

Shawn looked at her with a look of mild shock on her face, then he at Gus, then back at Juliet. Without a word he went back in to the bedroom to get changed.

Gus was left there alone with Juliet, looking a little skittish despite himself. Juliet turned her angry glare to Gus.

"You too Gus!" she barked at him.

Gus gave a little startled jump and nearly tripped over himself hurrying to go change.

When she was alone in her living room again Juliet rubbed her temples, feeling something like the beginnings of a headache coming on.

For the last week Shawn and Gus had been staying with her at her house. Even though she and Shawn had been together for a while now, because of work it was a secret. No one in the force other than Henry, Lassiter and the Chief knew about their relationship. Sure there had been rumors that maybe they had something going on, but no one who could sell them out really knew about her relationship with Shawn. That made her place a convenient hiding place for him and Gus until they could sort out a more long term solution. As far as anyone knew they were just coworkers on friendly terms.

Living with Shawn for a week had been… a joy in some ways, and an exercise in annoyance and frustration from time to time. Of course given the fact that Gus was there, and that they were essentially hiding for their lives kind of changed the whole domestic experimentation aspect of it. On the balance though, she really liked both of them. It hadn't been that bad. When she wasn't on duty, Juliet could go along with the silliness almost as well as the boys.

But what had been driving her crazy over and over again was how unconcerned and cavalier Shawn was being about their situation. As much as she had tried to drive home how seriously he needed to take this situation, he absolutely refused to take this seriously. Gus at least she could count to get whipped up in to a suitable frenzy of paranoia and caution when he thought about it, even if Gus wasn't the coolest customer under pressure. Shawn however… Shawn was treating this whole thing to Miami like a vacation, like a big joke. And to her horror, after a few to many days of being scared out of his wits the tension finally gave way and Gus began to follow Shawn's lead on making the whole thing a joke. Or just ignoring it altogether.

Juliet loved Shawn, and she could also say she had come to love Gus almost like a member of her own family. If anything had kept her from enjoying this past week with the two boys, it was her fear that the two of them not treating this with the seriousness it deserved would get them hurt, or worse.

And now this stupid stunt of dressing like every bad cruise ship cliché. The only thing they had been missing were bad hats and huge cameras around their necks. They were due to leave for the airport in a little less than half an hour for their flight. They seriously would have flown to Miami like that even though their lives depended on being forgettable and staying anonymous. Juliet had not admitted it to anyone, but she was quietly terrified of what the two of them would wind up doing when she wasn't there to keep them in line. Hopefully these Axe, Westen and Porter people would be able to curb the worst of their self-destructive tendencies.

A couple of minutes later Shawn and Gus came back, looking a bit sheepish. She looked them over. They were dressed sensibly now, much like their usual selves. Gus had a purple button down shirt on with dress slacks and Shawn had jeans and a green polo shirt. After giving them a once over long enough to make the squirm Juliet nodded her approval.

"OK," she said, dreading what was to come, "Come on guys. Time for me to get you to the airport, we don't want to be late."

++++PineappleYogurt++++

It had been a long year and a half in Federal prison. However, she had never been anything if not resourceful. She eventually got enough cash together, slept with enough guards, and scared enough people to make an opening that allowed her to escape a maximum security Federal pen. As a bonus, she had even gotten to shove a shiv in the kidney of one of the pig guards she had had to fuck to get what she had needed to escape on her way out. Didn't help much, but it did make her feel a little better about the entirety of her stay.

Kendra had a vindictive streak. It really gave her the warm fuzzies to get back at some of the people who had wronged her.

Once she had gotten out, things had not been so good for her. First of all, all the money in all her accounts had been stolen by the government. It had grated her to no end that the ones who had captured her had played her, and made her believe her bank accounts had been drained. In the end she had lost all her money anyway, thanks to old Uncle Sam. Apparently they didn't let you keep money gotten from taking on illegal hits. Who knew.

It wasn't long before she got back into the swing of things, but being a convict on the run made some clients skittish to hire her. Landing high quality work had proven to be much more difficult than before. At least at the rates she was used to. But Kendra refused to lower her standards and accept less money for hits from people lower in the food chain. She was a hitter for politicians, business leaders, and rouge governments. The beautiful woman refused to lower her standards by taking on jobs from some local gang or petty crime boss.

Then she heard about a job that had everyone who made corpses for cash take notice. A one million dollar hit, on some joe schmoe detective. Three hundred thousand for his partner. Kendra never even for a second considered taking them alive for the extra cash. She was a hitter, not a goddamn extraction team. And handing over a couple of guys would never be as satisfying as shoving something sharp and pointy into something soft.

Attacking a guy with a blade instead of just shooting him is what had gotten her caught in the first place. But that didn't diminish her fondness for using them one bit.

So she had made her way to Santa Barbara and committed herself to be the one to collect the fat payday. Once there she found out the details, that the detective was a witness and that the police were hiding him. It wasn't like she had expected any different. If the two were easy to find someone would have done the hit already.

Kendra had gotten some fake ID's and fake journalist credentials. It gave her some leeway to go in to the SBPD and start asking question. There was only so much info she could get that way before drawing any suspicion, but something was better than nothing and she needed a place to start.

She found out more than she thought she would. Apparently the information was more or less public knowledge. The detective's father also worked in the department. Kendra considered using him as leverage against the detective – Spencer was his name – but decided against it. That sort of thing was messy, and supposedly the two were estranged anyway. Another thing she learned was that the duo worked almost exclusively with a pair of detectives, Lassiter and O'Hara. Apparently the two didn't get along well with Lassiter, but they were chummy with detective O'Hara. Kendra licked her lips hungrily when she saw the blonde detective. She liked to bed women just as much as men, and the cute type of innocent look of the detective set her inner predator on fire. The idea of dominating a cop – _this _cop - and making her her bitch was a perverse turn on for the assassin. She decided then that her best bet of finding the two would be to tail the young detective. If the two private detectives were still having any regular contact with the police, there was a pretty good chance it would be through her.

Kendra tailed O'Hara home. She tailed O'Hara and sat on her house for two days. It was boring, and for sure no guarantee that she would learn anything useful but it was the best shot she had for now. And besides, she couldn't help but feel turned on as she felt like she was a predator on the hunt, stalking her prey and waiting for the right moment to pounce on detective O'Hara. It had been a long time since she had sex strictly for fun. If this search turned to be a bust, she might break in to the detective's house on a Friday and spend the weekend having fun with her. She'd make her beg. Who knew? The detective might even enjoy some of it.

On the second afternoon Kendra could almost believe her luck had turned. After O'Hara had come home, an hour or so later she left her house again… with the two private detectives in tow. Kendra's smile grew in to a wicked predatory thing that had made even hardened criminals suddenly fear for their well-being.

Kendra would get her payday.

And you know what? Just to celebrate, she decided, after it was all said and done she would come back and pay detective O'Hara that little visit after all.

++++PineappleYogurt++++

A/N: For those of you who may not remember Kendra, she was an assassin that appeared for about three episodes in season 4 of Burn Notice. She had killed one of Jessie's contacts and the BN gang ran in to her as she was sitting in the victim's house waiting to see if anyone came snooping (to kill of course). After some cat-and-mouse involving a disk, they eventually captured her. Jessie got to take point in some slick interrogations to finally get the truth out of her. After that, they handed her over to the FBI. Needless to say, she's not going to be happy when she figures out who exactly is protecting Shawn and Gus… but keeping them away from her isn't exactly going to be easy either =).

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please Review! It is encouragement to all authors =D.


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